


Space and Time

by OtteryKhaleesi



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men First Class - Fandom
Genre: Coda, Cute, First Class, Fluff, M/M, Song fic, wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtteryKhaleesi/pseuds/OtteryKhaleesi
Summary: --I guess space and time takes violent things, angry things and makes them kind-- song fic inspired by 'Sun' by Sleeping at Last.Sort of a coda to First Class, some comic elements. Very cute, very fluffy. Slightly introspective. Enjoy.





	Space and Time

Bruises blossomed on Charles' forearms where Erik had grabbed him in the water, deep purple finger marks underneath knitted sweatshirts that ached every time he lifted his arm. Erik wasn't to know. He had been frightened, angry, lost and alone. It wasn't his fault.

And yet Charles ached, he found himself running his own fingers (so small in comparison to the bruises, so much smaller than Erik) over them every day, mapping the constellation of hurt and watching them fade to greens, yellows and finally to nothing. Yet Charles thought of them often, that Erik would be so aggressive, so fierce and angry to a stranger who was offering aid and--

No. It was pointless to go down that route. There was trauma there that needed to stay buried. It was not Charles' place to pry in Erik's mind. After all, he was not a monster. He didn't play god with people's minds, nor did he go searching uninvited to those he cared about. Erik was different. Unsettlingly so perhaps. But they were similar enough. Time would tell. Time to warm to one another, to learn. To... understand, perhaps. Perhaps when they found somewhere to base themselves. A home.

\--

Returning to the Xavier mansion was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Staring at the leaded window panes sent a shiver down his spine, subtle but noticed by the steel eyes of the man stood beside him. A hand gently touched his spine, so fleeting he may have imagined it. But the warmth remained long after the touch was gone, radiating through his clothes and soothing the memories he had tried so hard to bury.

"Thank you, Erik." He murmured as Raven took charge, leading the other mutants to their rooms and giving them a tour which seemed... only semi thorough. 

"For what?" Came the heavily accented reply, the elder mutant brushing past him and into the foyer, granite eyes surveying the stained glass windows streaming sunlight onto the varnished wooden floor beneath their feet. Charles didn't deign to respond, merely placing a hand on the others elbow and guiding him to the stairs. 

"I thought it would be wise if the adults had... a separate floor to the children." Charles told him softly, releasing his touch once they were on the stairs. "Quieter. Easier to think." Although there was no reply from Erik, Charles could see a small smile curling the corner of his lips, feel a certain change in his mood by the adjustment in his body language and how he relaxed his shoulders, rolling them and stretching his muscles. Settling.

"Good thinking, Charles." Erik shouldered his bag a little higher, following him into the bedroom and looking around at the space. "You play?" He motioned to the chess board on the small table beside the fireplace, the pieces lined up in military precision ready to start the game.

"Do you?" Charles turned to look at him, soft blue eyes roving over the sharp features of the German. 

"Very well, I've been told. Weighted pieces?" Charles opened his mouth to reply but Erik merely smiled. "Rhetorical, I can tell." The tiniest motion of his hand drew a single pawn forwards on the board, and Erik cocked his head towards the telepath. "Humour me?" 

"I am... a little rusty, shall we say?" But there was a trace of a smile on his face as he slid into the armchair and daintily moved one of his own pieces, the charcoal black pawn striking between his pale fingers. "Go easy on me, Erik." 

"If you win, I'll say you cheated." There was a glitter in his eyes and his bag dropped to the floor as he too sank into an armchair, regarding Charles with interest. "You can see my moves, after all."

"No powers. I promise."

\--

"Shoot me Charles. I can do it!" Erik's hand was unwavering as he held the barrel of the gun to his forehead, unyielding metal cold in Charles' fingers.

"I can't. Erik I can't." His hand dropped, the gun too, and he let out a sharp breath that caught in his chest. "If you know you can do it, it isn't a challenge." Casting his gaze around for anything but the gun, his eyes alighted on a large satellite dish a fair few miles away. "That. Turn that to face us."

"Charles--." Erik tried to read his face, watching him carefully. "I can't. My power it..."

"I believe," Charles ventured with a little uncertainty, watching Erik carefully. "True power lies at a point between rage and serenity." Charles could almost hear Erik's counter argument before he said it, and he held up a hand to his face, gently wiggling his fingers. "May I?" There was no response save a terse nod of the Germans head, his eyes squeezing shut. 

Although Charles had touched Erik's mind before, it was different. Much different. He was being let in, allowed in to find... he didn't know. Something. Anything. Accessing the brightest corner of Erik's memory system and gently fishing the shimmering moments out, bringing them to the forefront. He could smell the smoke from the candles, feel the love and the warmth and suddenly he could feel a wetness on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Erik." He whispered, fingers brushing away his tears and aching to wipe away those on the elder mans face.

"I didn't think I still had that." Charles nodded tremulously, his eyes still stinging from the intensity of the memory. 

"Find that point. Turn it to us." He stood beside him, a hand gently resting on the stone balustrade around the patio they were on. It was shielded here. Secluded. Peaceful. Erik's fingers tightened, his muscles cording and straining and then... slowly, so slowly, the dish began to turn. Charles heard Erik's gasp of joy, felt him exhale in relief and he placed his hand on the others, unthinking and uncaring.

"Charles--."

"I know." He said softly, resting his cheek on the other mans shoulder for the briefest of moments. "I know."

\--

"Charles." The word was muttered into his shoulder, hot breath radiating through his thin shirt as Erik's mouth passed over his shoulder blade and migrated to his spine. "Charles." The word was more plaintive, almost begging.

"Erik." He whispered in return, turning in his chair to look at him. A rough hand reached out to touch his skin, the feeling of a warm palm against his cheek sending shivers down his spine. 

"Charles..." He carefully traced his hand down, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "Can I?" His voice was soft, husky. "Please?" For a moment, Charles didn't respond, his eyes taking in every second of this - committing it all to memory.

"Yes." That word was enough for Erik to carefully undo his buttons, sliding the soft cotton apart to reveal Charles' thin chest smattered with freckles and a soft coating of hair. There was a whine in the Germans throat as he slipped the material off of Charles' shoulders like water, baring him. "May I?" Charles' fingers danced on Erik's collar, brushing the soft skin there.

"The... Schmidt liked to use pain to teach me a lesson. Make me perform." He whispered, eyes closing at the confession as though he couldn't bear to look at him. "It is not as pretty as you." Charles gave him a sad smile and guided him to his feet, turning his back to Erik so that he could see his imperfections too, wrought in scar tissue upon him.

"My step father hated me. As did his son." He murmured, shivering impulsively as he felt Erik's fingers trace across his back. "Perhaps we can be as not pretty as each other, my friend."

"Nein. Du bist schön." Erik whispered, his native tongue falling from his lips without thought. "No." His lips pressed to the back of Charles' neck. "You are beautiful."

\--

Erik lay asleep in his arms, tucked up against his chest with hair falling over his eyes. He looked so much younger asleep, more vulnerable. Kind. Charles let his fingers dance over the elders features, committing them to his memory and tracing the lines upon his skin. There were new bruises upon his body but this time they were not from anger or from fear.

No. They were from love, desire, need. Charles let his mind wander, gently touching the edges of Erik's mind. 

Things were different now. No longer were his thoughts jagged and hard like metal, they were soft. Gentle. They glowed with the same brightness the memory he had found did. Time had softened the elder, his suffering had eased. Charles brushed his lips over his forehead, content to just hold him.

**Author's Note:**

> Normal disclaimer rules apply I don't own X-Men or anything. Also i haven't written a fic in over a year go easy on me


End file.
